One important past-life energy phenomenon is that of “unfinished business.” Similar to balancing karma from past lives, this involves something that was undertaken in one lifetime but not completed for whatever reason or reasons until a subsequent lifetime. As long as there is a residual attachment (an unwillingness to “let go”) in the soul memory to that unfinished business, the soul energy is not balanced. Once the attachment to that energy is released, the energy is balanced and becomes available to use for more constructive purposes. The lesson is learning to detach. In essence, attachment to anything is a form of resistance. The life-force energy is “bound up,” not available to flow freely as it should for optimal health, wellbeing, abundance, soul evolution, etc.

Contrary to the beliefs of some, not all past-life energy is emotionally traumatic and certainly is not always accompanied by emotional and/or physical pain. This is very often the case with unfinished business. Often the emotions are quite positive, but the energy of attachment does need either to be healed (as necessary), transformed, or released in order for it not to affect your life in the present, the NOW. In some cases, dealing with unfinished business is simply a matter of recognizing the energy and letting it go; it no longer needs to consume any life-force energy in your present life. A key factor here is learning to “appreciate” this energy without being “attached” to it. I’ll have more to say on this topic in future newsletters.

Unfinished business is most frequently “triggered” by coming into contact with people, places, objects, etc. You may well have encountered the same situation many times previously in your life with little or no reaction. But at some point (when you are “vibrationally ready” to release the attachment), that same situation will trigger a flood of emotional—positive and/or negative—release.

For example, in the summer of 2002 I penned the following poem expressing my feelings regarding Mt. Rainier, a piece of rock that I have admired since I first visited it in 1969. However, it wasn’t until 2012 as I was driving to work one morning that the sight of Rainier in my windshield unleased a rush of intense emotions—simultaneous pain and happiness, sorrow and love, loss and gain, poverty and abundance, anger and hope. It seemed as if the emotions from dozens of past lives were colliding in one grand crescendo, lifetimes of “life” all coming to the surface at once, culminating in that one life on the Mountain. Tears of joy and appreciation streamed down my cheeks for the last ten minutes of my drive. And then it was over. I was left with a sense of longing and “coming home.” As I stepped from my car into the crisp October morning air, I could almost feel and smell Rainier’s thin mountain air at 6,000 feet that I love so much. I felt refreshed, lighter, and almost giddy at the thought.

Several weeks later I discovered a past life on the mountain as a Native American “medicine man“ (shaman) on its southwestern flanks. The mountain was my temple—sacred ground—the source of my knowledge and the healing power I shared with my tribe. It was a very good and fulfilling life, one that explains many other events in my current life going back to childhood, adolescence, and even my adult years.

In the years both before and after this event I have day-hiked, slept many nights on the Mountain’s flanks, and carried a 55-pound pack for days at a time on its remote back-country trails. Only this once did I have a cathartic reaction to the mountain. I thoroughly enjoy every visit, but now I leave satisfied, filled with the beauty and inspiration of Her alpine meadows, mighty glaciers, crystal rivers and waterfalls, and Her stunning vistas. I really do appreciate each visit, but I believe that I am no longer attached to the energy of this magnificent place. That “unfinished business” has been cleared. But I still enjoy looking forward to my next visit and thinking about the lessons learned—and yet to be learned—on this and other mountains I have known. This poem that I wrote many years ago helps me to remember these priceless experiences:

She calls to me nightly, this Lady in Pink*,
as the setting sun adorns her stately beauty.
Like Aphrodite awaiting the homecoming of Zeus
at the end of another day, she beckons me.

I stand at my window like a voyeur, staring,
transfixed by the Lofty Lady’s majestic grandeur.
By day she wears a cloak of white and lavender, or peeks
wistfully through mists of cloud and illusion.

But in the dusk of evening she dons her nightgown of pink.
She beckons and, in my mind, I wait attentively at her side.
Her outer, pristine beauty she shares, but not her soul.
Of all her wonders, it is her soul that I most desire to know.

We are kin. I sense that, in the mists of time we were born
of the same Source. Her soul is my soul; we are both of
the Source itself. She and I so close, and yet so far apart;
what does she remember that I do not?

Mysterious and elusive, I can take neither my eyes
nor my thoughts away from her. She remains proud, aloof.
My love, as for a sister, remains platonic, spiritual,
befitting her queenly station.

And of a summer’s eve she veils herself in sunset’s glow.
Awaiting the last fading rays, she beckons to me,
and my heart and mind are once again captive of
The Lady in Pink.

*Mount Rainier

May all of your “unfinished business” experiences be as gentle and as positive as this one was for me.